


Shaky Hands

by yankeetooter



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Valoris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 17:09:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yankeetooter/pseuds/yankeetooter
Summary: In response to a whumptober prompt on Tumblr...Boris is the clutzy one for once.





	Shaky Hands

Ulana walked off after dropping the bombshell on Valery and Boris. 48-72 hours! And they were going to have to report to Moscow tomorrow morning! Boris looked to Valery in helpless shock. He had been in pretty bad shape since Valery had blurted out their death sentence earlier that morning, but now things were even worse! Of course, five years might be a moot point if they were here when the hydrothermal explosion happened, but despite not wanting to suffer, Boris didn't relish being instantly vaporized either.

Valery gazed at his friend. Before Pikalov had escorted Ulana in, he had asked Boris how he was. Why he had expected Boris to show vulnerability and admit to how badly he was taking the news, he didn't know. But now? "I...I can do the presentation tomorrow, Boris, if, if you want me to." 

Boris nodded gratefully. "Write up your outline tonight and I'll look through it over breakfast." Valery nodded and left to go to his room and get to work. Boris sat a moment longer, then said after his friend's retreating back, so quietly not even the bugs would pick it up, "And Valera? Thank you." With that Boris forced himself to move. He'd better get some sleep.

The next morning, Valery was up and dressed, his report ready for Boris' perusal. He had taken extra care this morning with his appearance, his shirt neat and unwrinkled, his tie tied correctly. He didn't want to add to Boris' burdens in any way.

He glanced at his watch. Where was Boris? The man rose at 6 a.m. every day like clockwork, but it was 8:30 a.m. with no Boris in sight. They had to be at the helicopter by 10:45 a.m., and they still had to eat and go over Valery's report. 

15 minutes later, and no Boris. Valery screwed up his courage, and knocked at the man's door. After another five minute wait, Boris opened the door. He was unshaven, his shirt partly unbuttoned and his tie crooked. "Boris, what is it? Why aren't you dressed? Are you okay?"

Boris motioned Valery inside and headed to the bathroom. Valery watched as Boris tried to shave. The man's hands were shaking so badly Valery was worried he would cut himself. Boris finally gave up and leaned his forehead against the mirror. "I can't, Valery..." he said. "Will you...will you...?"

Valery was already rolling up his sleeves and taking off his suit jacket. Gently pushing Boris into a chair, he lathered him up and carefully shaved him.

Boris kept his eyes on Valery who couldn't seem to meet his eyes in return. Instead, a slow blush seemed to spread over Valery's cheeks and down his throat as Boris watched.

Valery couldn't believe he was touching Boris in such familiar fashion. But he tried to ignore the feelings that touching Boris was invoking in him. Boris needed his help, and this was no time for such thoughts! But, having shaven Boris, the touch of the man's smooth cheek nearly overwhelmed him again. "Get ahold of yourself!" he told himself...and so he continued. Applying Boris' aftershave, patting him dry with a towel, all the while imagining what it would be like to touch Boris like this without the excuse of ablutions.

Boris closed his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of Valery's hands on him, and failing miserably. He calmed down at Valery's touch, his hands ceasing their trembling for the moment, while a growing excitement inside him fought for his attention. No! He couldn't think like that. And Valery was innocently trying to help him. He wouldn't impose himself on the man. When Valery was done shaving him, he tried to focus on buttoning up his shirt. But although thoughts of impending disaster might have been dampened for the moment, other thoughts had pushed to the forefront of his mind, and his hands still would not cooperate. 

After a moment of watching Boris' vain efforts, Valery took the man's hands in his own and pushed them out of the way. "Let me, Boris," he said, not even noticing he had used the man's first name. Boris nodded and closed his eyes as Valery's hands moved down his shirt slowly. The shirt had gotten a bit rumpled with all Boris' efforts, and every button or so, Valery would place his hands on Boris' chest and smooth out the shirt. By the time the shirt was buttoned, Boris was nearly undone by Valery's touch. Fortunately, it didn't take long for Valery to tie his tie, or Boris might have lost control. But then they were done, and ready to go to breakfast.

On their way out the door, Boris grabbed Valery's wrist, perhaps a bit more roughly than he had intended. Valery spun around in alarm, then caught his breath as Boris took his hand. "Th-thank you, Valera!" Boris stammered.

Valery squinted at his friend. Had Boris just used the familiar version of his name? Seeing the slight flush on Boris' cheeks, he squeezed his hand gently and said, "You're welcome, Borja!"


End file.
